


Popsicle

by PetrichorPerfume



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Castiel is a Tease, M/M, Popsicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is tired of popsicles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Popsicle

Dean is watching Castiel eat a Popsicle. Dean had finished his own a while ago, but Castiel is still consuming his with the same meticulous, exacting precision with which he does everything. Dean thinks it has something to do with some sort of angel magic keeping the sticky treat from melting, or maybe it’s because this is the fifth Popsicle Castiel has eaten in a row.

 

Castiel starts each one the same way. He slides it between his lips – stained a deep shade of purple from the red, white, and blue Popsicles – closes his eyes, and moans. Dean knows the angel can’t help it, probably doesn’t even know what his constant litany of pleasured sounds is doing to Dean.

 

Castiel then lets the sweet go with a _pop_ and rests it on his bottom lip. His tongue flicks out to taste the red tip and he groans. He pulls the Popsicle away ever so slightly, and leans forward to chase the flavor. He gives the tip a few more little licks before he slides it all the way in, purple-stained mouth closing around the blue base as he fucking deep-throats a _Popsicle._

 

He goes slow after that, dragging the frozen stick across his lips as if it somehow tastes better that way. He swirls his tongue around the top and gently licks at the base to catch any drips before they fall.

 

“Dean, I’m tired of popsicles,” he complains, still not easing up in his relentless pursuit of Popsicle-induced bliss.

 

“I can get you something else,” Dean offers, because he’s so hard he’ll do _anything_ for Castiel right now.

 

“I want something creamier, Dean,” Castiel purrs, and if Dean didn’t know how _clueless_ his angel was, he’d think that Cas was flirting.

 

“We might have creamsicles,” Dean chokes, blushing when Castiel starts deep-throating his popsicle again.

 

“I want to suck on something _hard,_ ” Castiel says, all wide-eyed innocence and Dean cannot, will not take advantage of him.

 

“We, uh, we have Popsicles?” Dean can’t think of something more intelligent to say, so he just repeats something Castiel already knows.

 

Castiel just rolls his eyes and gives Dean a ‘you’re-so-stupid-and-I’m-superior get-with-the-program’ look and slides off his chair. He tosses the now-empty popsicle stick to the floor and crawls over to where Dean is sitting. “I do like popsicles,” Castiel admits as he unzips Dean’s pants. “But only because they remind me of something I’d much rather be blowing.” 


End file.
